


Smoke Signals

by uglywombat



Series: An Indecent Proposal [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Dubious cuckholding, F/M, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Sex, Sex for debt, Smut, face fucking, pussy slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: Contracts have the ability to bind the most unlikely of people. They can provide security and they can destroy. Your life is bound by contract to a man who creates and improves the lives of millions. Months into an indecent proposal, your relationship with Bucky has changed and you find yourself a pawn in a fight you will never win.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/You, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/You
Series: An Indecent Proposal [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860475
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45





	Smoke Signals

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the "An Indecent Proposal" universe. It's been a tedious adventure trying to get words onto paper and finding voices but this came to me for a Tumblr challenge. 
> 
> Note: This is loosely based on the movie. It is in no way a parody or direct telling.

The lodge is everything promised and more. Opulent, detailed, and obscenely expensive, the calm surroundings of the Catskills has done little to ease your fraught nerves. The frayed and battered anxiety that has built, fragment on tiny fragment over the past few months. You feel like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any given moment.

The dark cloud that has your ever-weakening relationship drowning since the invitation turned up at your door has not waned. A concealed threat painted with gold, Bucky was not in a position to turn down the “team-building” retreat in the Catskills. Nor could he say no to the invitation’s extension to you. 

The indecent proposal that has you both chained to the enigmatic CEO has taken its toll. For months you have been at his beck and call, a pawn in his sordid sexual appetites. 

Steve Rogers is cocky. He had no shame cornering you at the bar in between the main course and dessert and demanding your company tonight within earshot of his CFO Sam Wilson. Your heart had sunk when he then sauntered back into the dining room and leaned over Bucky at the table, the poor man turning ghostly white at the request. 

And now, here you are in Steve’s private lodge as demanded. Your stomach no longer full from the carb-heavy dinner and rich dessert, your stomach violently somersaults.

Your breath hitches as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, the delicate French lingerie leaving little to the imagination. The rich mustard intricate lace triangle bra does nothing to hide your pebbled nipples and the matching panties are just as sheer. The price tags you had carefully removed from the garments had left a nauseous swell in your gut as you had carefully put them on. You can barely pronounce Eres, let alone imagine dropping a small fortune on the set. 

Time is ticking. You know better than to keep him waiting, though all you want right now is to cover yourself up and crawl into your own bed and cower against Bucky. 

The bubbling anxiety peaks as you slowly make your way out of the bedroom and into the main living area of the oversized cabin. It feels like a death march, your final journey to the gallows. This moment will change everything; nothing will be the same.

Bucky is pacing in front of the fireplace, his muscles taut and straining. His honeyed skin is pinched at his brow as he nervously chews his fingernails. In the low light of the room you can just make out the silver wolf tattoo on his arm and you are instantly calmed with the memory of holding his hand during the final sitting. 

Steve is sitting in the dark, forest green leather wingback chair, his fingers steepled at his lips as he examines you silently. So calm, cool, and collected, the juxtaposition between the older and younger men clenches your heart. 

“Doll…” Bucky stutters, heated charcoal eyes grazing over your barely dressed body. 

Steve chuckles, running his fingers through the silver frame of his beard. “Well, don’t you look a pretty sight.” 

A shiver of anticipation rushes through your veins and the impassive smirk makes you shudder. With a measured flick of his hand, you follow the silent command to take your position. Standing before Steve, your skin burns under the heat and weight of both sets of eyes on you. 

You jump as the breathtakingly tall man suddenly stands and tenderly brushes his hand over your hair. “Take a seat, kid,” Steve hums to Bucky but keeps his eyes locked on you. “Let me show you what a good girl the little doll can be.”

Bucky grinds his teeth as a surge of anxiety and anger washes over him along with the command and the visible shudder that runs down your spine. For months he has sat in the darkness, his imagination running wild as you are sent to entertain Steve and whatever shameful sexual appetites he wanted to be filled. You never speak of what transpires, but it is hard to pretend that he does not see the bruises and lovebites marking your skin. 

But tonight, Bucky will see the light. He will finally learn the truth about what you do with Steve. 

There is an obvious hunger that glints in the older man’s eyes as he circles you, a starved hunter targeting his prey. Though you stand stock still, Bucky can see the small shudders of anxiety and anticipation running through you. The flinch of your shoulder is clear as a hand comes to rest at the nape of your neck. 

The CEO stares you down, the slight smirk in the corner of his lips visible in the low light of the dandelion and burnt-orange flames. 

“I said sit, Barnes.” The command is deep, resonating in Steve’s chest as his eyes remain locked on your face. 

Bucky instantly recognizes the slump in your shoulder, faint but definite. It’s the one he ignores when he returns home late after work to dinner warming in the oven that’s he’s too tired to eat. The slump when yet another bill arrives in the mail and the credit card is maxed out. 

It’s the heavyweight of reality when the pressure is too much. 

Resigned to this life-altering moment, the brunette takes a seat in the soft green velvet armchair. Despite the pillowy comfort of the cushion, Bucky is rigid and his body is a constant wave of nausea and anger. 

He knows you are uncomfortable and that if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be a sex doll at the beck and call of Steve. His reputation and career, the huge debt from his college degree have you both in a bind. Sacrificing your dignity for Bucky is a heavy burden on both of you. 

On the old oak coffee table, Steve calmly opens a leather briefcase and returns to you with leather cuffs. Bucky’s breath seizes in his lungs as he watches the soft leather lock around your wrists behind your back and the blonde runs his nose along the length of your neck. 

Bucky can’t breathe as he watches a tight hand grips your hair before devilish lips claim yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, a pure act of domination and display of ownership, shuffling you around so the brunette has a perfect view of your face. Your hands grip onto the other as Steve presses his body into yours, kissing you messily and hungrily. Your breath is desperate as he pulls away and devours you with heated eyes.

Nimble fingers caress your breasts as you greedily take in deep breaths, your skin sensitive to the heat emanating from the fire. “Do you like this little set I got you, Princess?” Steve hums, circling you like a dark jaguar in the night. 

Your response is whispered, light like a feather and full to the brim with vulnerability, just the way he likes. “Yes, sir.”

A breathy hum tickles your skin as he draws behind you, cupping your breasts through the thin lace. “Do you know how much this bra cost, Barnes?” Steve chuckles as the younger man shifts uncomfortably in his chair, clearing his throat as he tries to hide the bulge in his pants. “This cost more than your weekly salary. I’ve spent a small fortune dressing up this little doll for me to play with. And do you know what I do with them when I get bored?”

Suddenly Steve tears the delicate and nauseatingly expensive lace covering your breasts, Bucky’s breath hitching in his tight throat as you hang your head in shame. You gasp, only to make Steve chuckle as his fingers pinch your delicate nipples. 

“You see, Bucky,” the older man drawls as he slinks around to face you, his fingers blazing a trail in the valley between your breasts, “my little princess likes to be used. She likes it when I put the expensive, pretty clothes on her, tell her how beautiful she looks, make her feel special. But she likes it more when I bend her over my desk, rip the very expensive clothes off her body and fuck her like a whore.”

Bucky is frozen to the green velvet chair; his heart races a thousand miles a second and he can barely breathe. His eyes are pinned to the hand now resting on the curve of your ass, fingers curling around the delicate lace. 

The sickening rip of fabric shifts the air and a swell of nausea and excitement hits the brunette as he spies your glistening pussy lips in the low light of the warm fire. You’re enjoying this. 

Steve suddenly turns your back to Bucky and pushes you to your knees on the sheepskin rug. The younger man is speechless and at a loss for words as you raise your head to stare at Steve begins to undo the richly scented leather belt at his waist, the expensive material snapping as he whips it from his pants with ease. This is not you, giving absolute control to a man. Your relationship with Bucky is built upon respect and equality. This is… this is not that. 

Bucky tries to focus his attention on you as Steve slowly and methodically begins to remove his clothing, but it’s difficult not to stare. The older man is enviably athletic and strong, thick muscles rippling like a model half his age. It’s a vast juxtaposition to Bucky’s lithe and muscular body, built like a swimmer. Steve looks like he could snap the younger man without breaking a sweat. 

The CEO clearly takes meticulous care of his body. His skin is like gold in the shimmering light of the fire. Fastidious care has been taking in grooming his silver locks and beard. The greying pubic hair framing his perfect cock has been carefully trimmed. 

In his mind, Bucky is a poor comparison to this well-aged specimen, and he’s instantly feeling insecure, more so than before. His tattered sweater is worn and fraying, the scuffs on his boots don’t tell of adventures but of the poor quality. Bucky does not come close to Steve Rogers.

But, despite the swelling insecurity and reality check of having no control of this whole fucked up scenario, it’s hard to deny how beautiful you look. Kneeling before the ripped God-like man, your hands cuffed behind your back, without even seeing your face, he knows your eyes flutter as Steve slowly fucks your mouth with his monster cock.

Bucky knows because you were his before. He’s memorized the soft, needy moans that vibrate around his length as his tip grazes the back of your throat. He can visualize the way your eyelashes frame your beautiful orbs as you eyelids flutter as you breathe in his heady scent. 

Do you like the way Steve tastes? Do you enjoy the thick, heavy feeling of the weight of his cock on your tongue? 

Steve’s hands interlace with your clean hair as he watches you intently. The heated glaze in his eyes tells Bucky that he likes the way your lips are stretched around his cock. He can faintly hear you hum as the older man picks up speed, his hands clutching your hair with ease.

The arch in your spine is mesmerizing, the way your hands rest at the swell of your ass. Bucky can practically feel the heat of your skin on the tips of his fingers. 

In the low light, Steve’s cock glistens with your saliva as he steps back and studies you closely. Bucky can feel cornflower blue eyes flicker over to him briefly. The arrogant smirk is unmistakable. 

“Turn around, Princess,” Steve commands with that slick, leveled tone, “show him what a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

Bucky gasps as you obediently shuffle awkwardly on your knees to face him, your hands firmly locked behind your back and spread your legs. Your arousal is clearly evident, a faint trickle lightly running down your inner thigh. The breath hitches in your chest as Steve suddenly kneels behind you, pressing his chest against your back. Snaking a hand over your chest he cups your saturated pussy. 

“When was your last orgasm, Princess?” His breath tickles your cheek and your eyes lock on the homely grey ones before you. A sharp smack to your ass and the petite whimper makes Steve chuckle. “Should I ask Bucky?”

“This morning. I made her come four times,” Bucky says with a heavy delivery of faux bravery brought on by an incessant need to assert some minuscule show of dominance. It’s a lie, of course, you haven’t had sex in weeks, the void becoming more apparent the longer the contract remains valid. “Think you can do better old man?”

His blood runs cold as the silver-haired CEO cooly smirks, locking eyes with his young engineer as he sharply smacks your wet pussy. You cry unabashedly, your body quivering under the wash of adrenalin and desire. 

Over the past months, you have learnt to bottle up the heavyweight of shame; de-compartmentalising the vast canyon of mixed emotions you dare not burden Bucky with. You wear your armour when Steve calls for you when he fucks you unashamedly wherever and however he chooses. But there is no denying the way your body responds to his magical and dexterous touch.

It’s hard to forget the broken and embattled glazed look in Bucky’s eyes as Steve concentrates his attention on the touch-starved juncture of your thighs. Your cry is a rough mixture of relief and shock. It’s been weeks since the older man has called for you and the man you share your bed and life with - well, the void between is so wide between you both there’s little hope of reaching the other. 

Little electric jolts misfire as a thick hand gently takes hold of your neck, the small amount of pressure enough to make your walls drop and lose focus on the dove grey gaze before you. 

Steve can’t help but delight in the sweet, destitute mewls dripping from between your lips and the ragged, defeated gaze in Bucky’s eyes. The young man knows he has lost; this is a competition he had no leg to stand on, he would never be able to come close to the silver-fox. 

“You know what to do,” Steve whispers darkly in your ear, staring at Bucky as he feels you quickly racing to your peak.

You can barely catch your breath, the precipice just within reach. “Please, Sir.” The request is heady with desperation, your body starved of any pleasure for what has felt like a lifetime.

“Come for me.” His grin is wicked and literally rips the breath from Bucky’s chest. 

The sight of you coming hard against the agile fingers dancing between the juncture of your thighs would be enough to topple Bucky over the edge if he touched himself. Your muscles tense against the tide of pleasure, your head thrown back against the muscular shoulder behind you as Steve marks your neck with his teeth. A babble of nonsense spills from your mouth as you ride through the intense orgasm, the nimble fingers not letting up on your sensitive clit. 

Bucky has seen you come before, of course, he has, but this? This is altogether something new and a sickening mix of excitement and dread rushes through him. This volcanic eruption of pleasure is so much more than the fizzle he can deliver. 

He’s so lost in the haze of conflicting emotions and the raging hard-on in his pants, he barely registers Steve kissing you tenderly. Your hands are free of the cuffs and thick hands are gently soothing the tense muscles through your arms. Bucky shifts uncomfortably in the chair and your eyes are drawn to him before the silver-fox is once again demanding your attention. 

His kiss is aggressive and insistent, the pull of his rapid vortex dragging you flush against his ripped, naked body. Where the young brunette is like limestone, pliable but sturdy, Steve is diamond. Impenetrable and solid, he doesn’t bend or compromise with anyone. 

When you make love with Bucky, there is a push and pull to lead or be pushed. Steve fucks with a poetic brutality, there is no room to breathe, let alone lead or control the wild dynamic. It is the calm command in his stature and voice that teases your senses and makes your knees quake. 

With a cool and controlled ease, Steve hooks his foot around the metal leg of the cinnamon leather ottoman and drags it over to you, all the while devouring your lips with his own. 

He’s like a wolf; poised, inquiring gaze and lethal as he towers over you. Your lips are tender and sensitive from his assault, still tingling from the pull of his teeth. 

“Back on the ottoman, head up, rest on your forearms, legs nice and wide, and press your thighs to your upper body.” 

Your body buzzes with scolding anticipation as you lower yourself onto the cool leather ottoman and obey. Surrendering to the assertive silver-fox has become simpler over time, or at least you tell yourself it has.

The cool caress of air against your soaked pussy lips is a distinct juxtaposition from the heat searing your skin as you lie on the oversized leather ottoman. On display in the ripped lingerie, Steve stands over you studying you closely as he languidly strokes his rock hard, thick cock. 

He’s a man of little words, even with an audience. The CEO doesn’t need to verbalize to communicate the level of control he has over you and your body. It permeates in the air like steam from a scalding shower and suffocates. 

Your breathy shudder echoes in the room as Steve suddenly drops to his knees before you. His lips are on you as though you’re an ice-cream melting in the midday summer sun. It’s absolutely lewd, the cacophony of starved moans vibrating against your skin, the debauched sound of your arousal slopping against his tongue and your needy, desperate mewls and sobs.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Bucky palming his hardon through his sinfully tight jeans, his perfect pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth. His dove grey eyes are glazed with lust, but you know him. Underneath the cloud of pruriency, there’s a battle raging on. Jealousy, self-doubt, anger…

You want nothing more than to climb into his lap and comfort the embattled man far away from this place. However, as always, Steve has to do little to demand your attention or make you see stars. He relishes in the way your clit expands and your core flutters like a butterfly as you come hard, his tongue incessant and unforgiving against your sensitive nub.

You didn’t want to lose yourself in the heady haze of Steve, not in front of Bucky but you are adrift and flying. Everything is smoky as he shifts you to lie on your side on the leather ottoman, the material pulling at your skin. A firm hand grips your ankle before forcing your leg up into the air and coming to rest against a rock hard chest. You can feel him lower himself to kneel beside you and the tip of his cock press through your folds.

There’s nothing tender about the way Steve fucks you. Bucky is soft and sensitive, like a gentle melody drifting through a warm room. He takes him time and savours the moment. 

The silver-fox is brisk and stormy, like a raucous percussion section dominating the cavities of a complex cathedral. He’s teeth and tongue, his goal to mark and claim every possible inch of you. You know he gets off on the green glint in Bucky’s eyes when he sees the bites and bruises. There is nothing subtle in the way he paints your body, marking you as his. 

And yet, his lack of selfishness still throws you from your axis, tearing the most bone-crushing orgasms from your weak body. It makes it so much more difficult to not fall deeper and deeper into his cavernous cosmos.

The angle is perfection; his fingers dance along your incredibly sensitive clit as he fucks you with calculated precision. The tip of his cock juts against the clandestine jewel he masters and your walls organically clench around his thick length. 

Despite the thickening fog clouding your eyes, you can see Bucky crack. The chair clatters to the ground as he stumbles towards the wall, the surge of nausea coming fast. He can’t breathe, the reality of this indecent proposal finally coming to the surface. 

You are enjoying this.

Tears prickle at your eyes as you watch the brunette watch on weakly as you come again, your broken body shattering into infinite particles. 

Steve smiles wickedly as he takes in the sight of you before him. Thoroughly fucked and owned, your skin is sheened with sweat, and your chest heaves as you gasp for air. Bucky sinks to the floor at the wall, tears forming over soft grey orbs. 

It’s enough to send the silver-fox over the edge, his orgasm hitting him like a bullet train. The gusto in feeling his warmth seep through you is invigorating and he is quick to claim your lips with his, covering your body with his. 

The rush ebbs and flows, the room filled with the sound of the fire crackling and greedy breaths. As he glances over to the cracked facade of his young engineer, opposing waves of victory and defeat flow heavily. Watching the young man crack was a gift and yet, it’s not Steve’s bed you will rest in tonight. 

His chest seizes as he pulls himself from your still clenching core and he forces himself to move away. 

“Take her back to your room and clean her up.”

The indifference in his voice sends a roll of nausea rushing through your gut and your head spins. You can hear Steve exhale deeply as he runs his fingers through his silver locks. 

Bucky sniffles as he pulls himself from the floor, the weight in his bones like lead. It takes all the strength he has not to punch the older man in the face as he passes him to collect your things from the bedroom. 

By the time he returns with your clothing, Steve is helping himself to a glass full of expensive scotch and is staring into the fire from the green chair. He doesn’t look back as Bucky painstakingly dresses you, desperate to get you out of there.

Nothing is said. In the sanctuary of your own room, you lock yourself in the bathroom. Under the scalding hot water of the shower, you scrub yourself over and over again, desperately trying to rid yourself of his delicious touch and the filth from Bucky’s eyes. The tears do not stop, crying yourself hoarse.

It does not make you feel better. It does not help you atone for the mile-long list of sins you have committed. 

You are not sure how long you sit on the cold tile floor of the shower. So lost in the raging waves of your self-hatred you do not hear Bucky pick the lock of the shower. 

He can’t bear to see you like this but there’s no going back from what transpired tonight. All he can do in this moment is take you in his arms under the steaming hot water and hold you close. 

But, amidst the devastating feeling of hopelessness, Bucky knows there has to be a way out of this contract. And he will stop at nothing to set you both free.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome. You can find me on Tumblr at @imanuglywombat - I'm always up for a chat.


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